


damage control

by little_baby_kaiju



Series: five’s tiny bladder (and other stories) [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_baby_kaiju/pseuds/little_baby_kaiju
Summary: He comes back to himself, chalk in hand, kneeling on his bed as he scribbles on the ceiling... and a familiar dull, burning ache of pressure low in his belly.





	damage control

It’s been less than a week since the... ‘bathroom incident’ (as Delores has taken to calling it) and Five’s being careful. Almost too careful. No liquids after 9pm. Go to the bathroom first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Limited liquids during the day and more bathroom breaks than usual. He’s been avoiding the others so they don’t notice his strange bathroom habits. Delores laughs at him, and he flushes red and tells her he has to be careful, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself again.

When he’s working on his equations, he tends to zone out. Which is how he finds himself in his current predicament. He comes back to himself, chalk in hand, kneeling on his bed as he scribbles on the ceiling... and a familiar dull, burning ache of pressure low in his belly. He’d been unconsciously jiggling his leg and biting down hard on his lip as he worked to keep his bladder in check, but as he’s pulled out of his reverie he feels it all. He moans low in his throat with frustration. He’d been doing so well! He drops his chalk and jams his fists into his crotch. He’s squirming uncontrollably now, unsure if he’ll even be able to get up before he loses control.

Delores is laughing at the irony of it all from her perch across the room and tears spring to his eyes. He doesn’t want to wet his pants again like a child. There’s no point in even attempting to make it to the bathroom this time, he knows he’s too far gone. He’s leaking steadily into his shorts, unable to stop it.

Damage control is just about all he can do now, and he doesn’t want to get his sheets wet, so he moves to get up, piss leaking through his fingers as he shifts and stands. It’s like the dam breaks with the change in gravity, and he’s almost crying with relief. It puts out of him like a waterfall, soaking his schoolboy shorts and knee socks until they’re sopping and dark. His legs shake as he voids his bladder, a puddle forming steadily around his feet. It’s never-ending, continuous floods of pee flowing out of him. He didn’t even think he’d drank that much.

It slows down and eventually trickles to a stop. He groans at the prospect of another clean up, but dutifully undoes his fly and drops his pants straight into the puddle below him. He’d better get a towel.


End file.
